


In Another Life

by Littleshebear



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Developing Romance, F/M, Forgotten First Meeting, Humour, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleshebear/pseuds/Littleshebear
Summary: Hawthorne and Zavala have a ‘meeting’ which may or may not be a date. Zavala has a sense of fun! Hawthorne drops a clanger! Zavala's Ghost knows what’s up!Set sometime between 'Vanguard Discipline (NSFW)' and 'Battlegrounds.'





	In Another Life

By rights, the restaurant shouldn’t have been re-opened yet. One wall was missing, black scorch marks on the floor telling the tale of the Red Legion blast that had blown it away. The furniture was mismatched; some of it original but much of it had been padded out with pieces scavenged from other sources. The owners had done their best to dress the space up by bringing in potted plants and hanging strings of fairy lights around the room. The effect was oddly charming and Hawthorne was surprised that Zavala would pick somewhere with such a bohemian flavour for their meeting.

Hawthorne picked at her food and looked around at some of the other patrons in the restaurant while Zavala opined, something about City, about how devolving responsibility to autonomous cells reflected something in the Vanguard strategies for something, something, City. She caught people making furtive glances at them, some who were outwardly staring only to suddenly become very interested in their own meals when they realised she was staring back. She sighed, picked up her glass and quaffed her wine as though it were water then finally picked up on what Zavala was saying.

“So yes, I was thinking of reshading my armour hot pink and Shaxx mentioned that he was replacing the objective in Rift matches with a piñata containing pure arc energy…”

Hawthorne frowned in confusion and said, “What?” Zavala responded with an elegantly arched eyebrow. “Oh. I…I’m really sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“Evidently,” He said, picking up the wine bottle to top up her glass. “Something wrong?”

“No, I just,” she tailed off, her eyes darting to the side again. “People are looking at us.”

“So?” He shrugged. “Let them look.”

“So…I don’t know…” She cass her gaze around the restaurant, taking in the strings of lights, the delicately prepared food, the candle in the centre of the table. She leant forward and looked him in the eye. “Is this a date?”

Zavala just stared back for a moment. “No. This is work. I just thought this would be more pleasant for you than an office or board room.”

“It kinda feels like a date.”

“If I had intended for this to be a date, I would have told you.” He folded his hands on the table and looked at her seriously. “Would you like it to be?”

Hawthorne froze, just staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Uhm, I don’t know,” She stammered and suddenly became very aware that the colour in her cheeks probably matched the hue of  the rosé that Zavala started topping her glass up with. “I’ve never really, I mean, uhm…”

“Take your time,” Hawthorne waited for him to finish pouring the wine then drank gratefully.

“I guess,” she paused, choosing her words carefully, “It could be interesting, I never really did the dating thing before. Never got along that well with the people I went to school with, then I went off into the Wilds and that’s not really the best set-up for long-term relationships, so…” She shrugged. “That’s it. Never bothered with it.”

“Being Vanguard Commander isn’t exactly conducive to long-term relationships either.” Hawthorne, watched him carefully, wondering if there wasn’t some disappointment creeping into that usually steady baritone of his. “Let’s play a game.”

“Say what now?”

“How would a date go if I weren’t a Vanguard Commander you weren’t a rebellious survivalist?”

Hawthorne frowned, considering the proposition. “You mean like a pretend date? What for?”

“For fun,” he said, the seriousness of his voice belying what he’d just said.

Hawthorne gasped. “You said the ‘F’ word,” she breathed in a scandalised whisper.

“It does happen occasionally. Once every century or so,” Zavala replied, still so matter of fact.

Hawthorne shrugged and said, “Okay. Why not?” She reasoned that a pretend date was a much safer option than a real one. “So, we just met, right?”

“Correct.”

“So,” she picked up her wine glass, “Tell me about yourself, what do you do?”

“I’m a librarian.”

Hawthorne responded with a decidedly unlady-like snort into her wine. “A librarian?” She coughed, trying to compose herself. “How is that, do you like it?”

“I love it. The peace and quiet. Surrounded by books.” He sighed happily, “And the organisation…”

“I’ve never seen anyone get so misty-eyed over the Dewey Decimal System before.”

“It’s good to take pride in one’s work. What about you?”

A brief silence ensued while Suraya considered what path her life might have taken if she hadn’t left the City. She eventually answered in an emphatic, even voice. “A veterinarian.”

“Really?” Zavala cocked his head.  “What made you want to do that?”

“It lets me use my brain, it’s useful and…” She stopped short of saying,  _it’s not what my parents would have chosen for me._ “Animals are better than people.”

Zavala laced his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands. “Should I be offended by that?”

Suraya laughed, “No, an individual person can be all right, but People? As an entity?” She glanced around the restaurant. The other diners were still surreptitiously watching them, probably intrigued by the idea of the oh so stoic Vanguard Commander reducing the new Clan coordinator to fits of giggles. She started counting off with her fingers, “They’re stupid. They’re nosy. They’re obsessed with status and possessions. And they’re noisy.”

“Oh they’re not as bad as all that, surely? I read somewhere, I read a lot, because as I mentioned,” he paused for effect, “I’m a  _librarian._ ”

Suraya bunched her fist and hid her smile behind it. “Mm-hm? What did you read?”

“It’s often assumed that humans are inherently selfish but it turns out that in times of crisis, they don’t turn on each other, they cooperate. That suggests People, as an entity, are naturally altruistic, not selfish.”

“Is that so?”

“Maybe it’s an evolutionary hold-over, from when we were primitive apes living in the trees, when communities had to get along for survival’s sake. Whatever the reason, give people a chance. They might surprise you.”

“Can you cite examples, Mr. Librarian?” Suraya smirked.

“Well.” He cast his gaze heaven-wards as if thinking it over. “I did hear about this woman, who set up a safe haven for refugees during the war, ran interference on the Red Legion, got communications re-established, organised the survivors into clans so they’d work together efficiently. She didn’t need to do that. She’s clearly a survivor, she could have hid out the war in the wilds. But she chose to help. Strikes me as admirably selfless, no?”

Suraya studied him, beginning to discern things she’d never seen before in that seemingly impassive face; An amused twitch of the lips , a playfully raised eyebrow and something to do with his eyes. The light in them seemed different somehow, betraying an emotion that Suraya didn’t have the courage to name yet. “Is this still a pretend date?”

“What are you talking about?” Zavala asked in a deadpan tone. “We just met.”

Suraya drained the last of her wine in an attempt to drown the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “If you say so.” She grinned wickedly and said, “But…This actually isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

Zavala frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We’d met before. Before the Farm.”

Zavala narrowed his eyes, “Are we still pretending or…”

“No, this is real.” Suraya answered brightly, probably the wine giving her the courage to tell this story. “I didn’t know who you were at the time but yeah, we’d met. I would have been about twelve? Thirteen?”

Zavala dropped his hands down to the table and stared. “You’re joking with me.”

Suraya shook her head. “Nope. It was one of Cayde’s dodgeball tournaments, you know? Getting civilians to interact with guardians or some such nonsense. Well. You came down, I don’t know why. Knowing what I know now, Cayde was probably shirking his duties or not answering calls, something like that.”

Zavala was sitting bolt upright, staring at the table cloth, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I don’t remember. I’m not sure how to feel about this.”

Suraya laughed, “Oh come on, we always knew there was an age gap. How old are you, anyway?”

Zavala answered with a single, forceful syllable. “ _Old_.” He cleared his throat, “So. Dodgeball. You were playing dodgeball?”

“Yeah,” she started fidgeting with her napkin, beginning to regret diving into the anecdote but realising she was in too deep to stop now. “You came across me and…” She paused. “I was crying.” Another pause. “Because the other team won.” She staged a laugh to hide her embarrassment, “I know it’s silly but it was a big deal to me at the time. I was a smart kid and I was expected to be good at whatever I did so if something didn’t work out I used to melt down. Didn’t know how to handle failure. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Zavala was looking at her again. Suraya caught his gaze for a moment before looking away again. His eyes were shining with sympathy and also that unnameable emotion again, only even more intensely than before. “Did we speak?”

Suraya nodded, “Yeah, you asked me what was wrong. You looked pretty mean, I thought you were going to tell me to stop being silly, that it was just a game or something but you didn’t. You asked me if I tried my best, I said I had. Then you said that losing might sting but giving your best is always something to be proud of.”

Zavala gave a shrug. “I still don’t remember. It does sound like something I would say, I suppose. Did it help?”

“Yes.” She plucked up the courage to look him in the eye. “You made me feel good about myself.” She clutched the napkin on her lap in her fist and felt her mouth go dry suddenly but she somehow managed to carry on speaking. “You still do.”

“Suraya, I-” Zavala was cut off by his Ghost appearing at his shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt your definitely not a date, Commander but Ikora is asking for you in CIC. She says it’s urgent.”

Suraya exhaled slowly, not sure if she was glad of the interruption or not. “Some sort of librarian emergency?”

Izanami turned her optic to face her. “Someone shelved Chicken Soup for the Soul in Cookery.”

She sucked her breath in through her teeth and made and exaggerated mock-wince. “Oof. You’d better get going. I’ll get the bill.”

“I’ve been talking to the restaurant’s Point of Sale computer, I already transferred the glimmer,” Izanami explained. “Zavala always pays on the first date.”

“It’s not a date,” Suraya insisted.

“Of course not. You’re just sitting in an expensive, artfully-lit restaurant giving each other compliments but it’s not a date.”

Suraya looked horrified. “How expensive? I can pay!”

“That’s enough, Iz,” Zavala said, a warning undertone in his voice.

“Shutting up now, Sir.”

“Sorry to cut this short,” Zavala rose from his chair.

“It’s okay. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She smirked up at him. “Cradle-snatcher.”

Zavala glared but there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Good night, Suraya.”

She watched him leave, only becoming aware of how much her heart had been hammering in her chest as she felt it finally calm and slow. She tapped her fingernails on the stem of her glass, thinking over everything they’d said to eachother. When the server came to clear their plates she said, “Could I have another glass of wine? Large, defintely large. Start a tab.”


End file.
